


Witness Me. (Or; Live Your Life With Spite.)

by Trekkele



Series: Trek Fest 2018 [5]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Botany, Gen, M/M, badass pilots being badass, being a parent is hard, being a parent is super hard in space, cartoons, gary being a useful asshole, hikarus life choices seem to be based on a series of dares, how to propose, in that him being an asshole is a convenient plot point, thats it thats the plot, the council being sulu kirk and mccoy, the council makes a decision
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 01:07:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15183392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trekkele/pseuds/Trekkele
Summary: There’s this old movie Kirk likes, because of the badass women, and because of the explosions, and because his Mom can literally quote the whole thing. And also because he and Uhura can and have spent hours discussing the themes and symbolism behind it. But there’s one line that makes Hikaru stand up straighter, pay attention, and think, Yeah. Yeah I get that."Witness Me."Or, Five times someone told Hikaru Sulu he couldn’t and he said watch me, and the one time someone said, well, why not?





	Witness Me. (Or; Live Your Life With Spite.)

**Author's Note:**

> The summary is referring to Mad Max - Fury Road, which is on my to-see list, but thanks to tumblr I know the plot of. Thanks Tumblr.
> 
> I just like the idea that Sulu does some of his iconic things out of spite, humor me. And the fifth thing and the +1 are combined.
> 
> Obligatory "I do not own these badasses". In case, you know, you thought I was secretly JJ or Paramount. Just in case.

**5** .

 

It started, as a lot of things do, with Saturday morning cartoons. The 23nd century has brought a lot of changes to television, but some things were classic and Should Not Be Messed with. 

Like Saturday morning cartoons. 

 

Sometime around the late thirties some genius intern at Paramount realized that they could make a mint off revamping the old, pre-eugenics-war classics, turning them into sprawling franchises consisting of movies, tv shows, comic books, and cartoons. 

 

Which brings us to the point of all this, which is Hikaru Sulu, six years old, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, cereal slowly dripping back into the blue faux-wood bowl. 

 

You see, Zorro the Masked Swordsman was currently being very dashing and rescuing and all things a Masked Swordsman should be. And Hikaru was convinced that there could be nothing,  _ absolutely nothing _ , better than that. Unfortunately, he was just a first grader, and not a Masked Swordsman of any kind. But playgrounds, unlike transportation methods and political agendas, have stayed very much the same since the beginning of time, and Monday found him racing out the door, toast and school padd in hand.

 

His friends listened wide eyed as he exaggerated his way through every bit of the story he’d seen over the weekend, hands waving around and juice box almost spilling over his blue cargo shorts. He may have embellished the story a bit, but we're sure that Zorro wouldn't mind.

 

Of course, as with every story featuring a dashing swordsman, there needs to be suitable villain. They just probably aren’t usually named Dave. And we can safely assume that they’re usually old enough to be out of elementary school. 

 

Hikaru had just finished explaining a particularly flourish-y move of his hero, acting out the swordsmanship with his bendy straw and some droplets of juice. Amid chorus’s of “that’s so cool!” and “do you think Zorro has a sidekick?!” Hikaru gave a satisfied nod to Zorro’s new acolytes and said with all the confidence the age of six and three halfs can bring - 

 

“When I grow up I’m going to be like Zorro!” It was a Fact, and his friends nodded along with all the seriousness such a Fact entails. They could see it now,  _ Sulu, Masked Defender of the Stars _ , traveling over galaxies with his sword and cape to save the people of countless planets. But of course, we can’t forget about Dave. We all know a Dave.

 

Dave, who sneered with all the disdain a seven year old could muster. Dave, who laughed over everyone’s enthusiastic approval. Dave, who thought it was necessary to add his own, unasked for, opinion.

 

“That’s dumb.”

 

Dave, who thought Hikaru Sulu gave a shit.

 

But Sulu just narrowed his eyes and lifted his chin, and said in what was a fair approximation of a threat, “ _ Oh yeah? _ ” 

 

In fact, years later, as Hikaru Sulu finally,  _ finally  _ took a deep breath not laced by fear or panic or  _ holy-fucking-shit-we’re-gonna-die-on-space-drill _ , he seriously considered sending Dave (who grew into a pretty decent guy, hey,  _ they were six _ ), a gift basket.

 

‘Cuz guess what? He really was a Masked Swordsman,  _ Defender of the Stars _ , now.

 

  1. **11**. 



 

Hikaru always liked the succulents the best. Maybe it was strange, after all, his grandfather had a species out back that could  _ sing _ , but he always liked the weird little plants that could survive despite anything a planet threw at them.

 

There was nothing, not star charts with his Dad or flight-lessons with his Mom or chocolate, that was quiet as comforting as digging your fingers into deep black (or red or green or purple so dark it was almost blue) soil and feeling the roots buried there reach up, up into the sunlight.

 

He’d been helping grandfather with his garden every Sunday since he was five years old. He’d probably been doing it for longer, but his first real memory is of this: soft bird calls and artificial sunlight and his grandfather explaining why different plants had different airfields in stasis around them, why the blue flowers can’t be planted near the red ones and how green soil is poisonous to anything that isn’t native to Zenobar. How we lift a plant by its thickest part so we don’t break it. How we plant them in the soil that will best make them grow, not in the ones that will be most convenient for us.

How if we take something to a new home it becomes our responsibility and we must care for it above all else.

 

Heavy stuff, for a child. But Hikaru is growing up now, and they’ve become more than soft whispers over multicolored vines. 

 

His grandfather is finishing a dirty joke about semi-sentient vines and his degree in botanical sciences when he realizes that he could be doing this his whole life.

 

It’s a revelation, of sorts, one that might leave him a little breathless if the air wasn’t so heavily regulated in the hothouses. He’s always known that botanists exist, that’s not what’s amazing, but now he realizes that his grandfather's long and much praised career in StarFleet is much the same as his long and praiseworthy career out of it.

 

He can picture it, hands wrist deep in red soil, a vine slowly creeping it’s way up his arm. Hikaru Sulu, exploring new worlds and discovering new plants daily, soaring off on a ship with a hot-house like no one's ever seen.

 

He has quite the imagination, Sulu.

 

“What did you study, in StarFleet?” He interjects politely, as politely as an excited eleven year old can, and his grandfather eyes him a moment before smiling. Over several Sundays they discuss botanical journals, and different science tracks, and how they’ve discovered a sentient plant on Cygnar III that changed the world of biology forever. (Or until the next great discovery was made.)

 

Hikaru’s grandfather was a clever man. Sometimes an obsession remains just that, or it peters out, replaced by a more pressing concern or idea and the minds of eleven year olds aren’t generally the most concrete of places. Given time Hikaru would probably forget that gardening was ever something more than a shared hobby with his grandfather. He wasn’t sure if this was a good thing, but in the end, it was never his decision to make.

 

No, that honor fell to one Yuki Sulu, who, being eight at the time, most likely didn’t remember the impact her challenge had.

 

Had he called it a challenge? Considering the temperment of the Sulu’s, it would be more accurate to call it an unintentional dare.

 

Hikaru was enthusiastically describing how they regulate the temperature for the on-board labs to his amused, if more than only half-listening, grandmother, when his sister interjected with a mouth full of ginger-snaps.

 

“I thought you were gonna be a pilot?”

 

Hikaru blinked at her, more confused by her question than anything else. And perhaps annoyed that she’d stolen a cookie off his plate. “Yeah, so?”

 

Yuki swallowed heavily around the astonishingly large bite she’d taken and frowned. “But you said your gonna be a pilot.  You can’t be a botanist  _ and  _ a pilot  _ and  _ an Astro-Scientist. It doesn’t make  _ sense _ !”

 

Over their grandchildren's heads, they shared a smile that held more than a little panic. Because Hikaru had that  _ look _ , mouth presses in a firm line, eyes narrowed and chin raised. It seemed some things never change.

 

_ “Oh really?” _

 

He thought maybe they shouldn’t.

 

**14.**

 

He’d had to get special dispensation from the California Board for this. Well, at least this stunt would look good on his StarFleet application.

 

See, Hikaru Sulu was not, in fact, a licensed pilot.

Despite the fact that he’d been taking piloting classes from a (truly ridiculous, when you think about it it) young age, despite the fact that his mother's been taking him up in shuttles for longer, despite all that he’d been content in waiting for his eighteenth birthday to roll around so he could take his pilots test and earn his license. 

 

Of course, this was all in the past tense now. 

 

Mostly because, he was still taking a piloting class, although at this point it was more so the teacher had a co-pilot he could trust and not have to focus on the controls, and be able to give each student his undivided attention.

 

Hikaru thought most of them could definitely use it.

 

There was of course, the occasional idiot who thought “young” meant inexperienced and complained about having a kid in the co-pilots chair, even though the kid had more flight hours logged than most second year Cadets. Yeah, Hikaru knew exactly where he was going, and it sure as hell wasn't down.

 

But maybe dealing with these idiots might qualify. Honestly, how did some of these kids plan on getting into the Academy?

 

So of course, one of them starts heckling him, asking why he was there, what could he do, didn’t he know only  _ Adults  _ should fly shuttles? “Maybe he should collect our homework like a good little hall monitor”. He was annoying and immature and probably named Brad, because some things about humanity will probably never change, and perhaps we should preemptively apologize for that.

 

Of course all of this would have been fine. Hikaru had a little sister, after all. And several cousins. And a couple of friends who were nothing more than lovable assholes, he swears. 

But than this goddamn son of a flightless bird went after his  _ flying _ . And his teacher’s flying and his mother's flying. And his families StarFleet careers going back to Archer's Enterprise and look, there are a lot of things he can forgive, grudges are just  _ not worth it, _ but really? REALLY? All because this idiot couldn’t tell the difference between a landing gear and an emergency break.

 

So here he was. Requesting a special license and taking a million extra tests and acing every single one. Strolling into flight class with his certification pinned to his jacket.

 

The board had warned him not to make them regret letting him try. They hadn’t.

 

Brad, however? Was now receiving lessons from the youngest ever sub-orbital shuttle pilot in Earth history. And the one who had broken two records while doing it.

 

Yeah, don’t tell him what he can do. Hikaru Sulu isn’t one to turn down a challenge.

 

**22** .

 

Well, they weren’t dead. The burning at the back of his throat from either vodka shots or disbelief confirmed that, but Hikaru was never one to take things at face value, not really. He was going to spend as much time necessary proving it to himself, and the universe, that he was very  _ very  _ much alive. 

 

He thinks the ring in his back pocket might be trying to prove the same thing. He knows he’s sufficiently slushed when he takes it out of his pocket and holds up in the dim baroom light, like some sob-story sweetheart in New Hollywood's latest flick. All he needs is a comic-relief friend who tells him to “put his heart on the line” because “maybe the risk is worth it” and he can sell this shit to a studio or three. 

 

He can see Kirk and McCoy arguing, or flirting, or maybe both, in a booth somewhere to his left, and he tucks the ring back into pocket and grabs his beer off the bar. He doesn’t feel like drinking alone, not tonight. 

 

Sulu’s never lacked a romantic soul. He remembers the first date he ever planned, a picnic under the bridge at sunset and a walk under SanFrans brilliant stars, roses and lemonade and a goodnight kiss on the porch at midnight. He thinks there may be something poetic about almost dying and suddenly getting the courage to ask a question that really shouldn’t be so simple.

 

He’s never cared much for classic poetry. And he wishes he hadn’t almost died. So maybe he was less romantic than previously assumed.

But that damn ring is still burning a hole in his back pocket and maybe a rumored playboy and a bitter divorcee aren’t the best company for someone trying to propose. But if there's one thing he’s learned over the last week, it’s that rumors are usually just that, and also that external dampeners function as parking brakes, even though  _ he already knew that _ . And that a few seconds of accidental delay might save your life. 

 

So he’s been learning a lot lately.

 

“Hey.” He takes the seat across from Jim, who he knows from experience is an adorably clingy drunk, although it looks like he’s been nursing the same cocktail since he got here. 

Kirk lifts his glass in a what might be a greeting or a salute or a warning to piss off, depending on the context, and McCoy just gives a soft hum into the bottom of his whiskey glass. 

 

They sit in silence for a few minutes, each staring at something in the bottom of their cup only they can see, until Kirk snorts and drains his, shaking his head with a tiny grin.

 

“Maudlin bunch aren’t we.” He drawls, grinning in a way Sulu is sure is fake, but than he’d been smiling like that at every party they’d ever attended together. 

 

Like he said, just rumors.

 

McCoy gives him the same grin and snickers, “It’s not like I’ve ever been a chatty drinking partner, Kid. You knew what you were getting”

 

Kirk pulls a face and glances at Sulu from under eyelashes some second year once insisted were fake. “Dunno, I almost expected Sulu here to be a crazy drunk. Would work well with his whole badasser-than-you vibe.”

 

Sulu lifted his beer and smiled back at the way Kirk’s eyes seemed to take in the whole room while still only staring at you. “Two shots and half a beer does not make me drunk, Kirk. Some of us can actually hold our liqueur.”

 

McCoy laughed at that, clinking his glass against Hikarus as Jim pouted in a ridiculous way, shaking his head and sighing about mutiny. 

 

“You’ll know I’m drunk,” he said around a swallow of beer and the hope that he wouldn’t regret this, “When I start asking about ways to propose that aren’t to flashy, but still classy.”

 

McCoy actually lights up at this, while Jim licks the sugar crystals off the rim of his glass. Seriously what had he been drinking?

 

“Well I have the answer to that one.” Gary Mitchell, one of Kirks ...honestly he wasn’t sure what they were. And judging by Kirk’s face neither did he. “Why buy the cow when you already have the milk?”

 

Mitchell laughed, downing what Sulu hoped was at least his fifth beer, because that was both rude and uncalled for and fucking crude. He leaned against the booth as if he was planning on staying, which, Sulu really hoped  _ not _ .

 

“Fuck off Mitchell, you couldn’t do something romantic if you got a complete personality replacement.” He’d never actually seen Kirk scowl like that. He’d seen McCoy make that face, but then again, scruffy and angry seemed to be McCoys default. Good thing it worked for him.

 

But the look on Kirk’s face kind of explained a couple of thing about Gary Mitchell and why they had requested different rooms for their second semester. Gary just laughed and walked away, and Sulu watched Kirk watching him with as neutral a face he’d ever seen. He wondered how many drinks it would take to get the story out of him. He then wondered if he cared. 

 

Not really, he’d take Jim over Gary any day.

 

“What was your first date.” 

 

“Huh?” He turned back around from glancing after Gary and found both Jim and Len (was his name Len? He’s pretty sure most people just called him McCoy. Or grumpy hot doctor, which, hey, he was  _ not  _ gonna argue), both staring at him very intently. It was disconcerting, to have these two staring at him like he was about to reveal the launch codes to the original Enterprise Shuttlecraft. Only thing worse was if they added Spock to the occasion.  

 

Serving on the Enterprise was going to be a trip.

 

“Well,” he cleared his throat, “We had a picnic. And went bike riding. And ended up at the aquarium, I think. It all gets kind of blurry after he kissed me.”

 

Apparently Sulu was planning out how to propose with two men he’d barely known less then a week ago. 

 

It could really, he decided as he ordered another round, it could really be worse.

 

**27** .

 

Children don't belong on Starships. 

 

The federation didn't really believe that, they couldn't, since the entire model of a five year mission was impossible if you asked all your members to simply put their life on hold for the duration. 

 

StarFleet encouraged people to balance life and career as much as possible, hell, they had such lax fraternization regs that more StarFleet weddings happened in deep space than most resort and shore leave planets. 

 

Most Captains listed “performing weddings” as their favorite on-board duty, and he knew Kirk was no exception. And a fair number took the title Honorary Godparent to any child born under their command. 

 

He knew for a fact the Admiral Archer had started that tradition. 

 

But still. Following the Kelvin incident, plenty of people decided that Children Do Not Belong On Starships. 

 

Even if it was a mission of peaceful exploration. Even if the safety features were almost 100 years more advanced than anything their enemies bothered to come up with. 

 

For Asteriea’s sake, they'd lost more people to Krall during the Yorktown incident than to the actual crash. 

 

But every time they'd tried to bring it up to a relative, for advice or opinions or just to make conversation, they'd gotten the same answer. 

 

Children Don't Belong on Starships. 

 

Oh, they were polite about it, saying,  _ you’re  _ the parents,  _ you  _ must know best, but the way they tilted their heads and said it _ just so _ , told them more than the actual words. Only a  _ reckless parent  _ would put their child on a starship.

 

Of course, it might say something about him that this was what he wants to think about half tipsy and celebrating his Captain's thirtieth birthday. 

 

The Captain, whose strolling over with a smile they haven’t seen in a long time and a drink in hand.

 

He greets Ben and Hikaru and starts chatting with them about the new ship, the crew transfers, how their families were doing, and the general smalltalk that had almost six years of friendship behind it, turning it into an actual conversation.

 

“It’s interesting, we actually have almost fifty married couples on board now. And about fifty more that are co-habitating.” Ben turned to smirk at Hikaru, wondering if the conversation was going exactly where it always went. Oh, t _ hey’ll probably leave to have kids, oh they must be transferring for the rest of the five year mission, _ oh. 

He’d heard it all by now. 

 

But he should probably stop assuming things about Jim Kirk. Six years and the man still manages to shock him.

 

“We have about twenty-five single parents too, along with the  _ “married with kids”  _ ones and we’ve been working on getting some StarFleet approved teachers on board. Now that we have the five year mission format down pat, they’ve finally decided to take some initiative on the family friendly ship-plans we’ve been suggesting them. We should have a classroom style space right next to the MedBay on the Enterprise-A. Do you think -”

 

Jim cut himself off, finally noticing the slightly shocked faces his friends were giving him. 

“Is - Is everything okay? You guys look a little surprised...?”

 

Ben and Hikaru exchanged another look, the kind he’d seen his parents share for years. Ben was the one who actually spoke, Hikaru being too busy making plans and connecting the dots in head. 

 

“It’s just..well, most people seem to think that kids don’t belong on starships. I guess we assumed you agreed.”

 

Captain Kirk -  _ Jim - _ laughed, nose crinkling in a way that should really not look good on a thirty year old man.

 

“I mean, I spent a good three years of my childhood on a starship, so,” he faced them, suddenly serious. “Wait, I never told you guys? My mother used to get permission for us to join the short missions she was assigned to. You know, three months here, six months there. I spent a good chunk of my fourteenth year on a Starship.” He took a deep swallow of his beer, eyes twinkling under the Yorktown's artificial lights. “I don’t know, I think I turned out ok.” he paused and grinned, ”All things considering.”

 

They laughed, and suddenly a continuing five year mission sounded much shorter than it had two hours ago.

**Author's Note:**

> Idk, Sulu struck me as someone who would have his life planned out at eleven. I did. Just, you know, didn't manage to actually live it that way. I would've made an awesome veterinarian tho.
> 
> Not Super Happy with the title, willing to take suggestions. 
> 
> I tried finding Ben Sulu's occupation, but there is literally no information on this man. So maybe he's a teacher. Or also a botanist. I'll see.
> 
> Uhh, the Sulu family is as much a legacy as the Kirk is, McCoy is secretly still a romantic, people should stop telling other people how to raise their kids, (but really), and I just want Uncle Jim surrounded by adoring toddlers, LET ME HAVE THAT.
> 
> See ya'll next week.


End file.
